


Gold Medal Pleasure

by nightmooncat



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Corporal Punishment, Kinky, Light BDSM, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Punishment, Restraints, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-17
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 13:10:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,013
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12388725
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightmooncat/pseuds/nightmooncat
Summary: Otabek decides to teach a sassy Yurio a lesson during the Grand Prix Final banquet.





	Gold Medal Pleasure

Yuri Plisetsky couldn’t believe that they were doing this right now. He had been sure that he’d get away with being sassy at the banquet and then probably pay for it dearly later. But no. Otabek had decided that he was going to be punished now. As in _immediately_. 

“Beka,” He said as the older boy steered him into the room by the arm. “Beka, we can’t be in here. We’re going to get in trouble.”

The room was another banquet hall; adjacent to the one they were supposed to be in. In fact, all that separated the two was a thin partition stretched from one end to the other, dividing the room into different sized sections. This one was more dimly lit than theirs. Yuri could hear the bass thumping from the music and the whoops and hollers of their fellow skaters on the other side. It sounded like Victor and Yuuri were at it again.

“Then I guess you’ll have to stay quiet,” Otabek said, stepping toward Yuri. 

The Kazakh unthreaded Yuri’s tie from around his neck, and set about unbuttoning the other’s shirt. Yuri didn’t think this was necessary, but Otabek always insisted that he be completely naked. He allowed the other man to slide his shirt off his arms, tossing it in a pile on the ground. 

“Turn around and give me your arms,” Otabek commanded. 

Yuri complied, feeling the silky fabric of his tie as it tightened around his wrists. Really, binding him with his own tie. His partner had no shame.

Otabek unzipped Yuri’s pants and let them fall to pool loosely about his ankles. Then he bent the other boy forward until his stomach rested on one of the empty banquet tables. It didn’t even have a tablecloth on it and it was cold on Yuri’s stomach, but he knew better than to complain. He was going to be getting hot pretty soon.

His partner reached out and took hold of his right ass cheek and squeezed, kneading and rubbing his flesh through the thin fabric of his boxer briefs. The Russian’s breath hitched slightly as Otabek trailed his hand down along the side of Yuri’s thigh, fingers ghosting along the skating-hardened muscles. He moved unexpectedly to the front, palming him and causing the younger boy to moan softly.

“Beka, people are going to notice I’m gone,” Yuri said. “I did kind of win the Grand Prix Final.”

Otabek responded by sliding Yuri’s underwear down wordlessly. He took his time, baring his partner’s backside inch by inch. Yuri sighed. Otabek liked to tease him, but this wasn’t teasing. He knew he was in trouble and Otabek was milking it, wanting to make him squirm.

“Makes no difference to me,” Otabek replied. He ran his fingers tantalizingly down Yuri’s spine. The blonde skater shivered at the touch. “You’ve still been incredibly naughty and you’re going to spanked for it.”

Yuri swallowed. Of course he’d known exactly what was in store for him the moment Otabek had sauntered up to him on the dance floor. He’d been testing the Kazakh all evening, hoping to draw a reaction out of him. Because even though he’d never admit it, Yuri was sometimes a bit of a slut for punishment. 

Otabek started kneading the flesh of his ass cheek again. Yuri knew that his partner was just playing with him, lulling him into a false sense of security. Any second now he was going to—

The hand disappeared and came back down a second later, hard squarely across Yuri’s backside. The Russian gasped at the sting, relishing in the warmth that spread across his skin within moments. 

The second smack landed a moment later. Then another. Then another. Otabek punished his behind quite methodically. He hit hard and fast, never landing in the same place twice, peppering sharp blows across both of his cheeks. 

Yuri was working hard to stay quiet, partly because he knew Otabek would punish him for longer if he didn’t, but mostly because he didn’t want to be heard by anyone at the banquet on the other side of the partition. He could just imagine if anyone… _anyone_ over there peered around and saw him. He could just hear the click of Phichit’s phone camera now…

Otabek’s next slap was aimed lower, near were his buttocks curved into the tops of his thighs. He had less fat there, which in turn made it more painful. He whimpered and squirmed a bit on the table. The surface had warmed by this time to his body heat. 

Yuri half wished that Otabek could use an impact device on him, but obviously given their current venue that wouldn’t have been wise. Besides, he was sure that he’d be deemed disobedient again and probably have to learn another lesson later. The notion made his body shiver with pleasure. 

By now his bottom felt warm and was quite sore. Otabek had not been gentle this time. He meant business. But Yuri loved it. He loved the control the older boy took over him, while still providing him with love and gentleness when he required it. 

“I love it when you’re like this,” Otabek said. “The way your skin glows.”

Otabek was a man of few words most of the time, except when he was with Yuri and especially in the bedroom. Then he became pretty talkative, and liked to shower the Russian with compliments. Sometimes Yuri found it embarrassing, be deep down he savored it.

The older boy untied Yuri’s wrists and the blonde pushed himself to stand again, swaying a little on trembling legs. He turned to look at Otabek who wrapped his arms around his boyfriend, pressing a passionate kiss against Yuri’s lips. His hand strayed down, fingers gently brushing his raw backside. The younger boy moaned against his lover’s mouth.

“You did good,” Otabek said as Yuri pulled up his pants. He handed the Russian his shirt. “Maybe now you won’t be so sassy.”

“Perhaps,” Yuri smirked, his emerald eyes glittering with mischief. “But I wouldn’t count on it.”


End file.
